Delusion
by SonjaTaylor
Summary: A symbolic, ghostly story and setting, set in a ruined Midgar. The hero wanders through the ruins of the city, and faces the phantoms of those he once knew-an angel of death, a fallen angel, his guardian angel, and ultimately himself. It is a journey of self-discovery.


Delusion 

_Forgotten_.

I pass through the empty hallway-the remains of something magnificent and prosperous once. Now it lies in ruins, bearing the smell of death.

_Darkness_.

Shadows creep along the walls beside me.

I pause, catching my breath.

The shadows take the form of soldiers. They move and vanish, like phantoms of the people that once traversed this hall. This observation sends chills down my spine. I straighten my back to ward off such feelings, and I ignore the urge to turn back.

Once more my boots make imprints in the dust on the broken floor. I know I am walking the same path as my companions, perhaps stepping in the same places they did.

I lock my gaze onto the splintered door that I am approaching at my right. Time has weathered the posts.

I pause to stand before it.

A name in metal letters is set into the door. I reach my hand forward in hopes of reading the faded and crooked letters.

_Lost_.

A shadow shifts on the wall, grabbing my attention. A human visage forms before my eyes. It moves before the door.

I step back, pulling my hand away.

He brandishes a dark weapon, and grins wickedly at me.

I finger my own weapon unsurely, wondering if a phantom is capable of attacking me.

Words swirl through my head. It is the voice of this phantom, but he does not move his mouth.

Such cryptic words.

Whispers of Fate.

_Prisoner_.

_Hero_.

_Wanderer_.

He is eloquent.

Pride makes him magnificent.

His coat blows around him. Blood red. Stained with revenge.

My eyes widen as his appearance alters. He fades. He ages, though his youth remains.

His illusionary form moves, and he points his shadowy sword at me.

I hold my breath as the tip touches my chest.

It isn't real, but I feel the cold steel penetrating my skin.

There is movement from the side of him. Something expands from his shoulder. Light objects fall around me, brushing me with their soft texture.

I let my eyes focus. I know what I see, but I wish to deny it.

_Wing_.

It stretches down the wall, and he flexes it.

He advances towards me, pressing the blade closer.

His eyes lose their color. His skin fades to a sickly pale. He ages with each step.

Fear grips me.

He is dying. His body is degrading.

_Death_.

I cry out in pain. The blade pierces me, and I struggle back.

Anger contorts his face at my resistance. He spreads his wing, and reaches his other hand to grab me.

I cower…almost accept it.

Such power in his presence. Such fear.

He is vengeful. Angelic.

_Angel of Death_.

I jerk back, clutching my injured chest, and he freezes.

He seems both angry that I have refused, and fearful that I have taken a bold approach.

His visage begins to fade, to filter away until nothingness.

I turn and hurry down the hall, wishing to have nothing to do with death.

My steps grow heavy as I travel the eerie, desolate hall. I wince.

_Painful_.

The pain in my chest seems to grow more extreme with each step. It weighs me down, nearly forces me to stop.

I consider turning back. Perhaps the pain will go away if I halt my progress.

A shadow passes over the wall beside me.

A feeling of pure dread churns within my stomach.

_Memories_.

It is too late to turn back now.

I see a door to my left. It is beaten and scratched, but not broken.

I cautiously approach.

I recognize the name on the door. The letters are still intact, though rusted.

I hesitate to stare.

A shadowy figure steps in my way, blocking my path.

I freeze.

Steady green eyes fall on me. I see streams of silver wafting in an unknown breeze.

He is tall. Mysterious. Powerful.

Respect swells through me.

_General_.

His cocks his head to acknowledge me. Something mellows in his eyes. It is a look I know well.

_Friend_.

I release my clutch on my chest. The pain has seemingly subsided.

He studies me. Almost seems pleased.

He gives no smile, but there's approval.

I take a step closer.

He flinches, and I hesitate.

Something changes in his green eyes. They grow narrow. Feral. His eyebrows lower dangerously.

_Insane_.

I step back frightened.

A dark wing tears from his back, showering me with heavy black feathers.

He is tall. Dark. Foreboding.

_Despair_.

I can only turn back. He blocks my way. I am not strong enough to face him.

I cry out in pain as my injury starts hurting again. I fall to my knees, unable to bear the pain.

He stands over me.

I am powerless to resist.

He was my support once. My general. My friend.

He was unstoppable.

A hero.

An angel.

Time has changed that.

I feel him grab me by the shoulder to jerk me to my feet.

Our gazes meet.

He stares steadily into my face, wickedly.

His face is pale.

_Fallen Angel_.

He smiles, and mutters something to me.

I don't understand it. I can't possibly understand it.

My power saps away. I feel as if my every bone is slowly breaking.

His eyes avert to my left arm.

I tense up.

He lifts a long, fine blade to my arm.

I start to struggle and yell.

His grip is too strong. I cannot pull away.

_Fate's_.

In terror, I look upon my bare arm. A delicate ribbon is tied around it. Such beauty. Innocence. Purity.

The blade slides closer to it.

I try to throw my arm out to stop the blade's progress, to spare the ribbon.

It is in vain. My arm has no strength.

The fine blade sears the ribbon without even touching my skin.

I cry out.

_Tears_.

I glare up at him in sorrowed anger.

That ribbon meant something to me. It was the only beautiful treasure I had left.

No emotion is in his face, but insanity flows through his eyes. Accomplishment. Revenge.

My world starts to darken, clouding with sorrow, anger, and pain.

I barely see his sword blade change its position. Its point is aimed for my heart.

I drop my gaze.

I have lost my incentive to fight.

Let the blade come. The sting will not last long.

I shut my eyes tightly as I hear it whistle through the air and cry its death song.

I grimace.

_Darkness_.

The sting never comes. The pain leaves my chest.

I open my eyes to find myself kneeling on the ground. I freeze stiffly, but am relieved to find that the Fallen Angel has vanished.

In his stead is a feeling of safety. Not quite peace.

I rise slowly, still unsure.

My eyes fall down to the severed ribbon. A lump catches in my throat at the tragic sight of it, but I gently retrieve the fragments and place them carefully into my pocket.

It can never be retied.

I let my gaze follow the hallway. The darkness has not lifted from the forsaken, ruined path. But, it no longer feels so thick.

I press on.

I watch a shadow form at the wall and walk beside me.

His presence comforts me.

Joy that I could never express as a smile wells through me.

He is a friend.

I notice a door ahead of me, and I quicken my steps. I am eager to see my friend.

However, the Angel of Death has passed this way before me.

In horror, I slow before the door. It has been broken down, leaving his dark room accessible to any who might pass by.

I kneel to see the shattered letters that once spelled his name scattered along the floor. I snatch them hastily, and try to rearrange them, as if doing so would bring him back.

A hand descends on my shoulder.

I do not wince. It is not as the Fallen Angel's touch. This is comfort. Reassurance.

I still grab for the letters, but he squeezes harder.

I sigh, and let them go. Slowly I rise to my feet to face him.

His face is stern. Yet, his heart is compassionate. Such security in his presence.

His appearance is that of a phantom, shadowy and translucent.

His gaze averts, resting on something to the right of me.

My sword.

He gives a faint smile, pleased to see it. I touch it, knowingly.

He takes some steps forward and passes. He gestures me to follow.

I do so without question. I fall into step beside him. Just like the old times.

Our traveling is easy. Friendly. We don't speak, but we are at ease.

_Guardian Angel_.

It occurs to me that perhaps he warded off the Fallen Angel. He kept me from falling to that blade.

I hardly notice the final door up ahead. I would have passed it had the Guardian not halted and gestured to it.

I stop to stare at it.

I do not notice that he vanishes.

The door is perfectly intact. It has a few scratches, but they are only superficial.

I stare at the metal letters on the door.

_ZACK_

They spell my name.

I smile fondly at it.

A shadow moves before my door, and forms the phantom of my own appearance. Dark hair. Soldier uniform. Carefree smile.

There is strength and reassurance in the phantom's eyes. Pleasure. Pride.

I am pleased to see myself.

I stretch my hand towards the doorknob to enter the familiar territory of my room.

However, I feel a tremble the moment I touch the knob. I hesitate uncertainly.

The phantom visage of myself begins to dissipate. I notice this with frightened surprise.

The letters of my name begin to shake upon the door. I watch them rust before my eyes.

I gasp as the letters fall from the door to break upon the floor. I stoop to catch them, but am not quick enough.

I hear a loud cracking noise, and watch with horror as the door splinters and crashes to the ground before me.

Dust blocks my vision, and I cough.

When it clears, my phantom is gone. In his stead is a young man. Blonde, spiky hair. Sad, blue eyes. Small. Desolate.

_Forgotten_.

I stare at this new phantom with puzzlement. He is a stranger to my eyes, but something is familiar.

Something is right about his being here.

"Cloud."

I turn. A young woman stands behind me, hands clasped. She is delicate. Such beauty. Innocence. Purity. Just like the ribbon.

There are tears in her eyes.

I touch my cheek, and for the first time notice that I am crying too.

She gives a small smile. Touching. Compassionate.

"Let's leave this place."

She is ready.

Such death is in the air. So many memories.

She passes me, urging with her eyes to follow.

Ahead, where she walks, lies an escape. Hope. New journeys. New beginnings.

I look back. Behind me lies the past.

I leave behind an enemy. A general. A guardian. Myself.

No.

Not myself.

That was never me. I am…

"Cloud."

_Name_.

She calls to me once again. That foreign word makes sense in my ears now.

I turn my back to the rooms and to the phantoms that haunt the dark hallway.

I leave them behind to follow her.

She is pleased.

I smile.

My delusion is gone.


End file.
